


to sleep soundly (in the monster's den)

by Blueberries (Blueberries_Pen)



Series: NonconWhumpKinktober 2020 [2]
Category: DCU
Genre: Collars, Dehumanization, Human Furniture, Kinktober 2020, M/M, No beta we die like mne, Noncontober 2020, Somnophilia, Sounding, Whumptober 2020, humblers, if you squint your eyes it's almost domestic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:42:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26768206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blueberries_Pen/pseuds/Blueberries
Summary: Robin sleeps. Slade lets him. For a little bit.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson
Series: NonconWhumpKinktober 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947430
Comments: 6
Kudos: 108





	to sleep soundly (in the monster's den)

**Author's Note:**

> Kinktober: Human furniture | Sounding  
> Noncontober: Somnophilia  
> Whumptober: collars

Slade wakes up first - not unexpected, with how far he’d made the boy push himself yesterday and how hard he’d fucked the boy last night. He stretches languidly, shifting, but Robin - usually so aware of Slade - still doesn’t wake up. He must have exhausted the boy completely.

He absently strokes the boy’s neck, hand curling around it to feel the pulse thrumming steadily beneath his fingers. It’s so pale, so small, so _fragile_. He squeezes lightly, and the only thing it makes the boy do is shift more towards him.

_Stupid boy,_ Slade thinks fondly, hand stilling and then relaxing. Even in his sleep, his apprentice knows who his master is. Good boy.

He shifts, moving over the boy. His morning wood won’t relieve itself, and it doesn’t matter to him whether Robin is awake or not. Streaks of come and blood still stain his thighs from last night, the plug in his ass not doing the best job at keeping it in. Slade doesn’t care, tugging and pulling out the plug, and sliding in easily.

He sighs at the blissful warmth and tightness, Robin’s body always fitting so perfectly around him, and the child looks so sweetly _innocent_ like this, in the midst of sleep. No expression of pain, only acceptance, only his body opening up so invitingly to Slade.

He pushes in, thrusting lazily at first, too early in the morning for his usual quick pace. His head dips down, nosing at the boy’s neck and leaving sharp little nips at the already dark ring of bruises around his neck.

“Such a good little whore,” he murmurs, speeding up as the pressure builds up. Still asleep. Slade goes even faster, but the boy _still_ sleeps. He lets out a huff of laughter, but Slade doesn’t mind. Robin is his to play with either way, and there is enjoyment in this, too. 

He comes, releasing with a groan, and spends a moment to savour the warmth a bit longer before he pulls out. He smiles - the sight of come dripping out of the boy’s hole never gets old. But the boy is _still_ sleeping, which just won't do. 

He then slaps the boy awake. “Wake up, boy,” he snaps, voice hard. “What, are you going to sleep all day?” 

The boy scrambled around, bleary eyed but quickly coming to attention, face scrunching up as he feels come dripping down. Confused eyes look up to Slade. “Master, did - did you -“

“You’re mine, boy,” Slade says softly. “I’ll use you however I like, _whenever_ I like. You don’t get to have an opinion on it.”

Robin ducks his head, flinching. “Y-yes, master. I’m sorry.”

Slade’s not displeased, not really, but he likes seeing the boy flinch. Likes watching the boy abase himself because of Slade. So different to the proud, stubborn hero he had been at first. But inevitably, he fell, like the child he was. Robin is much more obedient these days. 

With a sigh, Slade drags the boy forward, and wraps the collar around his neck. _Pet,_ it says. He really is. Such a small, helpless creature - could he be anything but? The leash is clipped on as well, and Slade tugs on it. 

“Come on, boy,” he orders. “We have a lot to do today.”

When the boy makes to stand, however, Slade swiftly disabuses him of the notion, yanking him forward sharply until he falls. “ _Pet._ You know you’re not supposed to walk,” he chastises sharply, slamming his boot down on the boy’s shoulder.

Robin lets out a delightful cry of pain, whimpering and cowering beneath him, frantic apologies dropping from his lips.

“What am I to do if you keep misbehaving like this, hm?” he asks with exasperation, leaning down, putting more weight on his boot. He opens the bedside table, eye lighting up as he spots what he needs. “You need to be _punished_.”

His boot lifts, and the boy immediately gets on his knees, limbs trembling. “I’ll crawl, master, I’ll be good, please–“

“ _Shh,”_ Slade hushes, grasping his balls. “Pets don’t talk.” He snaps the humbler around them, ensuring that if the boy tried to stand he’d receive a painful surprise. He doesn’t stop there of course, taking a thick sound, oiled, and wiggling it into the boy’s slit. 

The boy lets out a pained whine, but follows the order to not speak. He’s learnt at least this much, even if he can’t stop the slight sobs that shake his body.

Slade doesn’t play often with this hole as he should - Robin is so delightfully sensitive here it’s a pleasure to play with. He pushes it in, and out, utterly fascinated. It never fails to amaze him how such a tiny hole can take something thicker than a pen. Robin’s sobs are almost shrieking now, far too loud. For some reason, he hates it when Slade puts anything up here, which is why he should do it far more often.

He chuckles. “What are you screaming about, hm?” He asks. “Look at how easily you’re taking it - maybe one day I’ll stretch it out properly, till it can be a proper little cocksleeve for me, hm?” He squeezes, ensuring the inner walls of the boy’s cock would simply press harder against the sound.

Robin just sobs harder.

He locks it in place after playing with it some more, and gives the boy’s balls and cock a playful slap, liking how it reddened them. He then rises, tugging at the leash, liking how it makes the collar tighten around the boy’s neck and makes him choke. 

Robin always did make the most delightful sounds.

“Come along, now.” 

He sits, Robin obediently shuffling into place in front him, sniffles more or less quieting by now. Good. There’s no need for a footstool to make annoying sounds. Slade’s boots settle down over it’s back, and he begins to work, typing away on his laptop, searching and eliminating contracts. 

It’s not the most relaxing work, but all he has to do is yank on the leash and the choking sounds he hears has a way of soothing him immediately. Sometimes, as a reward, pleased with what a good footstool it is, he’ll play with its cock, squeezing it and tugging at the sound. The sounds from that are delightful too, as are the shrieks released whenever he loses his temper and slaps its balls. 

Even when the sheer stupidity of some of the requests makes him want to take a hit on _them_ and fills him with such burning irritation he kicks his footstool away, it crawls back to him, bruised and bleeding and trembling but oh so _obedient._

Having such a good footstool is enough to make his irritation bleed away.

Slade tugs on the leash again, smirking as the gurgling sound reaches him. He doesn’t speak to it, but he gives its head a rewarding pat, not even looking down. It shivers beneath his hand, longingly pressing into the touch.

Slade suppresses a fond smile, but lets his hand linger a bit longer than he planned, his hand curling in hair.

With such a good little pet, he can afford to indulge. Just a little.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed :D


End file.
